


i hear them calling for you

by capsize (copenhagenborn)



Series: dancing with a wolf [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Werewolves, my ever-conflicting feelings on the soulmate concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copenhagenborn/pseuds/capsize
Summary: Freddie is really not a wolf.The other five change the minute the moon starts to peak through the skies in Naz’s yard that was bought for this exact purpose. But Freddie stays seated on the porch, seemingly unbothered by the moon’s pull as Mitch chases Naz through the tall grass, Mac yipping at their heels.Connor doesn’t know why, but he feels a soft tugging towards Freddie – like his entire being is calling for him to go to Fred, so Connor does. He sneaks his way onto Freddie’s lap until he’s spread out on the bigger man, paws resting on strong thighs and head easily supported.or, the follow-up to running through the night told as one shots.





	1. Nazem

**Author's Note:**

> so! it has now been over a year since I posted part 1 and promising both this story and a semi-sequel-ish thing.  
Both have been in the works just as long and if anyone asks, I do have the complete outlines for both of them, but I just haven't had the motivation to write them out in full, so now we ended up here. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a 5+1 with five wolves and then one non-wolf telling their stories about being on the Leafs, but as I am not quite sure when or if the rest will be written, I have decided to post the three stories I do have. 
> 
> These were written a year ago-ish, so the canon will still follow running through the night with players on the Leafs unless otherwise stated! 
> 
> Other than that, I hope you will enjoy these, and happy Mitch-signing day!

Naz is drafted seventh overall by the Toronto Maple Leafs.

And Naz is a Toronto boy through and through, born and raised in London and now playing for the Knights, repping the blue and white whenever he can, but.

He plays one game for the Leafs during his rookie season and has never been happier to be sent down.

It’s not so much that they suck – they do, but Naz has played on shitty teams before; it’s the flow of hockey, ever so often turning into the ebb of the tide – but Naz comes from an Ontario team, a team filled with hometown boys that at the very least know about wolves if not are ones themselves.

To go to a team that not only suck, but also have no wolves or any kind of support network for them is terrifying. So Naz rejoices in another year spent in juniors, even with top guys like Johnny gone and big chunks of the guys traded for picks Naz won’t be around for.

Because at least there is a pack to return to.


	2. Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Dicky Clune appears for a hot second and talks about addiction and the consequences thereof. Also there is mention of Connor as a wolf biting someone and making them bleed, but it is all consensual. So if that's not your thing, this is probably not the chapter for you!
> 
> also, Mac is of course Curtis McElhinney if anyone (me) forgot he used to be a Leaf!

Connor has never been a part of a big pack.

He grows up in a small family with two siblings – neither of whom are wolves – and has always been used to spending full moons running by himself or accompanied by one of his parents or siblings when they got old enough to pretend to carry his leash.

That’s not to say Connor doesn’t know how to be in a pack. But it does mean that he’s used to dealing with most problems on his own, or vaguely generalising them so other people can offer advise even when it comes specifically to wolf-stuff they don’t know anything about.

Dylan Strome helps.

Dylan who is a wolf in every sense of the word but the actual shift itself and overcompensates by knowing everything about the wolves in the league. Dylan and his million of brothers and cousins – distant family members Connor would never think to contact – and their deep involvement with the wolf community in Missy and its surrounding suburbs. And then there’s Travis Dermott who’s bushy tailed and smaller than Connor ever remembers being, but he is a wolf and Connor can’t afford to be picky.

It’s not quite enough to qualify as a pack, but it’s more than Connor’s ever had before so he makes it work.

It’s weird having someone to look after – Travis who might have grown up in a family of wolves but still doesn’t know as much as Connor does now; Dylan who knows too much but has no real use for it – but it’s not weirder than actually having someone to run with when the full moon finally hits.

Dylan comes with them a couple of times, either running next to them on two feet or sitting against one of the threes until they tire themselves out and come back for pack cuddles.

It’s easy to see the yearning in his eyes when he runs a hand through Connor’s fur, dark eyes getting sad as he leans down to kiss Travis’ head. And while Connor didn’t have a pack before them, he knows how hard it must be for Dylan to be away from his brothers, how he misses his sister making him do tricks when they run into strangers who coo at his shiny fur and good manners, or the way his mom squeezes him closer on warm summer nights they all spent outside to keep Connor company.

They don’t talk about it, because Dylan is nothing of not repressed when it comes to feelings about wolves. But Connor does make sure to cuddle closer when he seems particularly sad after a phone call to back home.

It doesn’t really register until the playoffs that Connor probably won’t be back for the next season with the Otters. The Leafs have been eyeing him up and even if he doesn’t crack the roster this year, he’ll probably at least be put on the Marlies to build his chemistry with some of the guys switching between leagues.

The same Marlies – and Leafs in extension – who are infamous for not having a lot of wolves in their system, despite the very convenient location. Connor only knows about Kadri who’s still playing as a lone wolf on a shitty team that looks to be getting at least a top ten pick this year.

But Connor isn’t really worried about himself, he’s lived without wolves before and he can do it again if he must.

It’s Travis who’s still new to everything now that he’s away from his family. Travis who still has trouble with playing through a game if it’s on a full moon; Travis who last month freaked out and almost shifted in the locker room because he was pushed back a line – only held back by Connor’s steady hand on the back of his neck and Dylan’s calm voice telling him to keep it in.

Connor tries to breach the subject when they’re kicked out of the playoffs – and, maybe it is the wrong time to talk to him about leaving right after a devasting loss, but Connor is getting pressed for time, and a bad time is always better than none at all.

But Travis doesn’t want to listen and refuses to acknowledge that he’s going to be alone next year. “Dylan’s going to be here, I’m not alone, Brownie.” He scoffs like Connor is his dad trying to lecture him, rolling his eyes and looking anyway but at his face.

“Dylan is not really a wolf, Trav. It’s not the same.”

He doesn’t reply and Connor can’t help but sigh dramatically. “I’m just saying I’ll still be around, alright? Even if I’m in Toronto instead of Erie, you can always call me if you need anything.” He tries instead, all kind smiles and soft touches as he watches him throw shit into a bag that he for sure has to repack when Connor leaves the room.

But Travis just scoffs and doesn’t take his eyes away from the Leafs shirt Connor is sure is his, pushing it down until the frayed blue colour no longer can be seen. “Whatever Brown. It’s not like we were a real pack anyway.”

And Connor is well over eighteen – older than Travis by a few significant years – which makes it all that much worse when he’s the one exiting the room ad slamming the door behind him. But Travis’ words hurt, because even if he hadn’t felt that way, Connor had definitely thought of him as pack – the only one he’s ever had.

. . .

Connor has only played a couple of games for the Marlies when he gets a call in the middle of the night.

They didn’t meet up over the summer like they used to, keeping their little pack alive even when they’re supposed to be back with family, and they haven’t talked since Connor walked out of Travis’ room after their playoff exit. But there’s still a part of him that thinks it’s Travis calling to apologise, to ask how to handle the need to shift when there’s no room for him to di it and no one around to know what he’s going through.

But the voice on the phone is definitely not Travis Dermott. It is an Otter though.

“Connor, uh Brownie?” Connor Mc-Fucking-David asks in a shaky voice, soft and quiet over the phone.

If Connor didn’t know better, if he hadn’t himself watched him pull himself together and talk to the press after one of their hardest losses of the season at the young age of fifteen, Connor would think Davo was crying on the other end of the line. But they all knew Superstars didn’t cry, and McDavid was the greatest of them all.

“I’m here bud, what’s up?” He says instead, mid yawn and padding out of the room so he doesn’t disturb his roommate.

“Dylan – Stromer that is – said you were the person to call, so like. Do you mind?”

Connor chuckles softly and settles down on the couch, a glass of water to his side. “Well, I might need a bit more than that, but try me, Davo.”

There is a very defined pause followed by a shuddering exhale before McDavid starts to ramble.

“I turned into a wolf.” He blurts out quietly, words rushing out one after the other. “Just, one second I was sitting on the bed, and the next I had like, fur and four paws? And I couldn’t talk. But, Dylan says that’s normal? That it runs in his family, but I am 100% sure that no one in my family can turn into wolves.

“But you can, right? At least that’s why I’m calling you. Because you are a werewolf, is that what we’re called? I really don’t like this, Brownie. Can you – can you come to Erie for a few days, and just like. Walk me through it? There was nothing about turning into a wolf in the package I got before the season. Does everyone do this? I’m sure Sidney Crosby didn’t. Maybe Eks though, he looks like he would –“

“Connor! Please calm down, it’s already late and you’re talking really fast, okay?” Connor says coolly, trying to project some of his calmness onto him. “Everything is going to be fine. This is very normal and yes, I do it too. So don’t worry, eh? You’re not alone.”

McDavid releases another painful breath, and when he starts talking it’s much calmer than before. “So this is a real thing then, Dylan wasn’t just kidding?” He sounds hopeful, like Connor is going to tell him Dylan has the power to make you believe whatever he wants – that he didn’t just turn into a furred creature with teeth sharper than any human might need.

“No, this is very real.” Connor says with a smile and leans back in the couch. “Werewolves are not uncommon in Ontario. Just because your parents can’t turn, doesn’t mean they don’t know anything about it, so I would give them a call if I were you.”

He doesn’t mention that it’s more surprising that he hadn’t known about werewolves than actually being one himself. “Now, turning is controlled by the moon like the stories say, but you can also turn any other day if you want to. There are no special powers that come with it, though bites and scratches sustained as a wolf do tend to heal quicker, but nothing about brain damage or broken bones, I’m sorry to tell you.”

“That’s – alright.”

“This means that you’ll have to turn at least once a month and it might collide with a game night.” Connor says softly but keeps his voice firm as Davo’s breath hitches. “I suggest talking to Travis about how he handles it and what he can do to help you get started.”

“Trav – Dermott?”

“Yeah, bud. Travis is a wolf too, and he can answer all of your questions if I’m not around.”

“Where are you going?” He follows up quickly, the frown almost palpable over the phone making Connor chuckle.

“Nowhere but sometimes it’s easier to show something instead of just describing it. And it’s nice to be together when you’re wolves.” Connor only hesitates briefly before adding, “You know, like a pack.” He doesn’t know if Travis still believes that whatever they had had been built on nothing but proximity, but at least Davo knows the option is there now.

“But I can still call you, right?” He asks after a beat, unsure in a way that’s so unlike how he usually is on the ice.

“Yeah Connor. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

They don’t have a game the next day, so Connor turns off his alarm and tries to catch up on some of the sleep he missed during the call.

When he wakes up at half past eleven, there’s a single text waiting for him.

** _TRAVIS: _ ** _I’ll take care of him _

** _CONNOR: _ ** _thx bud, knew u would_

. . .

In 2015 the Leafs draft Mitchell Marner, London Knight superstar and as thoroughbred as wolves come. He’s not a big guy though, smaller than most of his draft class, and the Leafs still need their other piece to finally complete their rebuild. So Mitch is sent down for another year in Juniors, and Connor has to settle for Zach Hyman.

It’s not really settling though, because Hyman is great and will definitely crack the roster then the Leafs decide they want to start winning instead of tanking for picks.

There’s the tiniest part of Connor that wishes Zach was worse, that he couldn’t play the puck like he does or at least that the Leafs were already stacked with great guys on their roster. Because Connor doesn’t want to be left behind again, watching the team get better and building pack bonds while Connor is the only wolf on the team once again.

But Zach is great. He’s organised in a way that guys their age usually isn’t, and he’s also used to smaller packs from his years spent Michigan surrounded by Americans who had no idea why he went camping that often.

They start up the camping again in Toronto, and with Keefe as the new coach, they’re allowed a bit more leeway when it comes to wolf stuff than they’re both used to. Dicky joins once or twice, tagging along in whatever car they can manage to borrow and stays with their stuff while Zach and Connor chase each other through the woods.

“I don’t really turn much nowadays,” Rich says when Zach asks about it on the way home from the Winter Solstice Dubas had hosted. “Over the years, with the things I’ve been through, I kind of lost touch with the entire wolf thing. I can still shift, but there’s not the same calmness that usually comes with it. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”

Connor’s heart breaks for him.

He’s heard of wolves losing the ability to shift, but usually it’s a result from severe head injury or neuronal degradation of the centres responsible for turning. Connor can’t imagine still being able to shift but not wanting to – not feeling the pull of running with your pack, howling at the moon and cuddling up until your smell is indistinguishable from the rest of the pack’s.

“That’s the thing they don’t tell you, I guess.” Dicky shrugs but his eyes are shiny and there’s a brief tremble in the hand resting on the steering wheel as he drives them back home. “Stay away from drugs, kids.”

Connor and Zach huddle a bit closer to each other in the backseat, hands clenched together with their legs intertwined as they watch the moon go down through the windows.

The season goes on and the Marlies are kicked out of the playoffs in the third round.

The Leafs – not even close to being in the playoffs- draft first overall and while it’s not a wolf, Auston Matthews will surely do well on the team.

They also trade for Frederik Andersen, who is not a wolf but he’s something – Connor is sure of it even after only one week of camp.

Frederik turns into Andy who becomes Freddie and Connor falls a little bit in love with the way Fred makes another stop, keeping his net empty of pucks with just the smallest of smirks on his lips and a quick tap on the pads to whomever is skating away.

It’s Mitch who invites him for pack night, walks up to him during one of the few minutes he doesn’t spend glued to Matthew’s side and asks if he wants to join them during the next full moon because, “Hey, shifters gotta stick together, eh?”

Freddie doesn’t seem ecstatic about it, but he agrees to come and that seems to be enough for Mitch.

Connor feels bad that Travis is stuck on the Marlies with only Dicky around and makes a point to invite them for the next one if their schedules allows for it.

Freddie is really not a wolf.

The other five change the minute the moon starts to peak through the skies in Naz’ yard that was bought for this exact purpose. But Freddie stays seated on the porch, seemingly unbothered by the moon’s pull as Mitch chases Naz through the tall grass, Mac yipping at their heels.

Connor doesn’t know why, but he feels a soft tugging towards Freddie – like his entire being is calling for him to go to Fred, so he does. He sneaks his way onto Freddie’s lap until he’s spread out on the bigger man, paws resting on strong thigs and head easily supported.

Connor barks out of principle but stays slack over Freddie’s lap.

He’s been in a few moon-runs throughout his life, most of them spent with Zach or Travis, the rest during solstices where it’s several packs gathered together to celebrate. And Connor’s always been on the front lines of that, dancing on his paws and chasing tails before attacking the nearest wolf of similar size for a quick fight. Because Connor lived starving during the year, so when he finally got to run with someone other than his one pack mate, he went hard and didn’t hold back.

But now with the pack – _his_ pack – Connor doesn’t feel the need to chase Mitch around or push Zach down into the grass despite the a unsubtle invitations from him, bared teeth and a low growling that would normally have put Connor’s teeth on edge until he had forced Zach into submission. Connor is comfortable here in Freddie’s lap with idle fingers carding through his fur and being fed treats Naz had taken the time to cut out for them before spreading half of them out through the yard so they would have something to search for.

It’s not normal, is the thing.

Wolves – even ones that spend the majority of their lives as humans – are not tame animals and usually don’t appreciate being cuddled when their pack is off playing without them. So when a couple of months go by and Connor is still spending full moons in Freddie’s lap, he starts to get suspicious.

There are rumours of course – tales about the things Connor is feeling and how it fits ever so perfectly with what he is – but Connor has never known someone who’s met their mate, never mind when they’re inter-species.

Everything changes the night Connor sees Freddie turn for the first time.

It’s not even a full moon when it happens, but Freddie’s never claimed to be a slave to the moon like the rest of them. It’s also not amongst the rest of the pack, it’s just Connor following Fred home after a bad loss, and Freddie pretending he isn’t really there.

It hadn’t taken Freddie long to buy a house in Toronto, but now that Connor looks closer, a lot of considerations must have gone into it before he settled on his particular one.

It’s not too big, just a couple of rooms more than Fred really needs and all of it contained on one floor. But the yard is where he must have been insistent. It’s bigger than Naz’s, just a wide expanse of grass framed by a couple of trees in the horizon marking the edges of the property. Connor remembers Freddie talking about a lake at some point, but even if the timing hasn’t been right yet, he’s sure it’s going to look amazing when it’s finally dug out.

Fred goes directly to the yard when he’s unlocked the door, leaving Connor to put away their bags and find something to eat for a post-game meal.

It’s not his first time here. Freddie lives closer to the rink and arena, and Connor tends to be dead on his feet when they come back late from road-trips, or games that go on for so long that Connor just leaves his car in the lot and slips into the front seat of Freddie’s car. But even then Fred tends to stick around and guide him to the guest room, getting drinks and whatever snacks he has from the kitchen and placing them on the beside table next to Connor’s tired form.

The kitchen is big, but not overly so and Freddie’s organised, so it isn’t hard to find the things he needs for sandwiches and sliced carrots. But as he comes out to the yard with the food and Gatorade, Freddie is gone, and in his place sits a beautiful red fox with shiny fur from nose to the tip of its tail.

The fox is curled up angrily on one of the lawn chairs Freddie had been reluctant to buy. “It only reinforces the idea you can come here uninvited,” he had grumbled when Connor dragged him through the store to consider the different kinds of wood and what would go best with his patio.

Connor smiles, big and wide and bordering on goofy as he puts down what he has in his hands to approach Freddie. He walks slowly just in case the fox decides to pounce on him, but Fred stays static on the chair and only starts to make a fuzz when Connor picks him up, “Shit Fred, you weigh nothing like this. What are you, ten kilos? You’re a cub, babe.” He coos, holding Fred to his chest and sitting down in the chair with the fox in his lap.

Freddie doesn’t really move much, just curls up against his stomach, sharp claws kneading the skin of Connor’s underbelly until he starts cursing, “You know, I think a conversation might work better than passive-aggressively clawing me to death but whatever, eh?”

Fred turns sharp eyes on him, red fur sparkling even in the dull evening light. He stays quiet but lets up on the claws, dramatically removing one at the rime until he can stretch out across Connor’s chest.

“I feel like this is something you should have probably mentioned when Marns invited you to the pack run,” Connor muses after a couple of minutes, an absent hand running through red fur.

It’s very different from petting one of the wolves who are made of muscle and build to protect and attack. Freddie is smaller, thinner and delicate in a way that is very juxtaposed to how Connor normally sees him – Frederik ‘The Great Dane’ Andersen, backbone of the Leafs and the one thing keeping them from falling apart every odd night on the ice.

Freddie who’s normally nothing short of a brick wall now weighs less than his equipment and would probably crumble under an incoming puck.

“I’m not saying you don’t belong here, but it’s nice to share once in a while, Frederik.” Connor adds softer, picking him up by the scruff of his tony neck to make sure he’s listening. And Freddie blinks once, twice very pointedly which he takes as understanding. “If I had known, I would have – I wouldn’t have told the others, you know, if you didn’t want me to. But at least let me help you, Freds. It’s what I’m here for.”

Connor knows they haven’t been doing this for a long time, that whatever weird thing they have going on has been nonverbally agreed on and not brought up around anyone else, but. Connor had though that Fred had given him a bit more credit, that whatever they’ve been doing had amounted to more than just the average trust between teammates, between _packmates_. But maybe Freddie hadn’t thought of Connor as more than a hook-up, someone to keep his bed warm until the right one came along.

Connor sits up a little straighter and puts his hands under Fred to place him at the end of the chair so he can get up just as Fred lifts his tiny head and stares Connor down until he settles again, sitting back in the chair. And then he’s bobbing his head in a nod, looking as apologetic as a fox can before jumping from the chair to the grass.

Fred crouches down, his mouth opening as he lets out a wheeze that doesn’t quite sound aggressive or threatening, but Connor gets the gist of it, smiling wide as he gets up from the chair to shift.

It’s not really a fair fight.

Connor as a wolf is at least twice as tall as Fred and much wider, but they make it work. Freddie is quicker, elegant on his paws as he speeds through the tall grass, only turning to let out another weird wheeze when Connor isn’t running fast enough, nipping at his heels whenever Fred lets him before he’s off again.

It much more obvious like this, when they’re both shifted and the pull to Freddie is stronger than ever. There’s no denying it when he finally catches up to him and instead of pushing Fred down to the ground so he can bite his neck to show his dominance, all Connor wants to do is lick at Freddie’s muzzle and fetch him one of the sandwiches they’d left on the patio.

Instead, he barks softly and bends down to bump their noses together before letting Fred back up, the fox wobbly on his legs as he watches Connor with narrowed eyes. Connor barks again, this time loudly and more playful, couching down before he wags his tail. This time Fred takes off, only looking over his shoulder once before he’s metres away from Connor.

They’re both panting in the end, red-eyed and exhausted as they stumble to bed at half past three.

But it’s alright because Freddie doesn’t shy away when Connor wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer to his chest. They stay like that through the night, Connor clinging to Fred’s back, overheated and pressed together in a bed that’s too small for two professional hockey players. But they make it work, sharing a pillow when Fred pushes the other to the floor in a dreamy haze, resting his head on Connor’s chest as he falls sleep again.

In the morning Connor wakes him with a kiss and watches Freddie slowly awaken until he’s squinty eyed and frowning.

“Are you still going to deny there is something here?” He asks softly and reaches underneath the sheets to intertwine their fingers, pulling them up and kissing the knuckles of Fred’s hand. “I’m not sure how foxes do it, but wolves are very monogamous if you didn’t know.”

Freddie rolls his eyes but leans in to kiss Connor again, this time longer and with a lot more tongue than what’s really appropriate for early mornings like these.

It’s not quite an answer, especially not when Connor knows where Freddie used to stand everything mate-related.

How they’ve talked about it in the passing before, Mitch telling them about Dylan and McDavid and how that turned into McDavid and Draisaitl; Naz with his own experiences from friends that had found each other during Summer Solstices and hadn’t left each other’s sides since.

Zach who is a bit more sceptical, who’s bought a ring for his girlfriend who doesn’t have an ounce of wolf in her family but still firmly believes she is it for him.

Connor doesn’t know if it is different for foxes. He doesn’t know if Fred is from a fox family or if he’s just a one-off like Connor, but he seems a bit doubtful about the whole concept of having one person who is perfect for you in every way, frowning and asking questions whenever Mac tells them stories about his parents and how they met.

“So what, you’re just supposed to accept it? ‘Here is your person, better start loving them now because you’ll be together for the rest of your life.’ I’m not sure that’s very romantic.” Fred comments one night, back before Connor had made the first move and kissed him in front of his stall after his third shut-out of the season.

The rest of the pack has already left, but that’s normal by now. Connor staying late when the rest of them beck off to go home to family or in Mitchy case, Auston who’s been whining the entire night that he wasn’t invited to the team-hangout. Connor three glasses of wine in and in no shape of driving home, and the two of them sitting closer than usual, thighs brushing together whenever one of them moves.

“Nah, it more like. I don’t think being mates would be enough to make a relationship work if you didn’t already like them first.” Connor says with a frown, taking a long sip from his glass when he can’t handle the weight of Fred’s gaze on him. “Like of course there are the stories about love at first sight, but humans have those too. It’s just, feeling sage and like there’s someone who loves you – like if you ever needed anything you could go to them and they wouldn’t turn you down. It’s devotion, I guess. But not the unconditional kind you always hear about in fairy tales, there has to be something behind it.

“It’s a foundation, something to build off on. Knowing that if you tried, if you put in the work, this could be the greatest relationship of your life.” Connor continues and empties his glass in one final gulp before putting it back on the table. “If you don’t think that’s romantic, then I don’t know how to convince you otherwise, but. I wouldn’t mind having someone to think about me like that.”

Freddie had been quiet after that, tipping the last of the wine bottle into Connor’s glass before leaving to put it away in the kitchen.

He doesn’t know how far Freddie has moved since then, if he still thinks Connor only likes him because of that strange tugging in the pit of his stomach. But he doesn’t seem openly averse to it anymore, holding Connor close and keeping him in his bed until they’re both running late for practice.

They arrive just two minutes before last call, stumbling out of the car with Connor wearing his dress pants from the night before and one of Freddie’s shirts that is too big on him in every way.

It’s an easy transition going from casual hook-ups to people destined to be together as judged by Connor’s need to be around Freddie whenever he’s a shifted.

Freddie doesn’t seem to mind it too much and doesn’t make that much of a fuzz when Connor starts to rub some of his scent on him before they get out of bed in the morning. It does get problematic on road-trips when Connor’s still off sleeping in another room and Fred comes down to breakfast only smelling faintly of their scents intertwined from the lack of them sleeping in the same bed.

But even then, Fred doesn’t really put up much of a fight when Connor starts to switch out his new, clean shirts for ones Connor’s been wearing, soaked in his scent and with the number 28 on his chest instead of his usual 31.

They tell the pack next, partially because they probably already know if Mitchy’s sly smirks and Zach encouraging conversations are anything to judge by. Mostly they do it because there is a part of Connor whenever he is shifted that’s irrationally afraid that one of them is interested in Freddie and might try to court him if Connor doesn’t stay close to him.

When Connor explains that during pack night, Mitchy lets out a bark of a laugh and speeds through the grass to climb into Freddie’s lap, licking obnoxiously at his neck until everyone but a fuming Connor is grinning.

It doesn’t change how they interact, but it still helps somehow, settling Connor’s mind until he can leave Freddie’s side without looking back to check in on him every few minutes. Like having everyone else acknowledge that Fred and Connor are together is enough to ease whatever possessive need he had that stopped him from fully embracing the pack’s closeness with each other.

There is other stuff that he’s been shying away from, but Fred already knows this is supposed to be forever – at least for Connor – so he doesn’t see the point in rushing anything.

Or at least that is until Mitch decides to derail the conversation and bring up mating bites during one of their roadies, when they’re just hanging out in someone’s hotel room, exhausted from the game but too itchy this close to the full moon to go to sleep.

And Connor can’t help but hiss at him and push him down the bed, because it’s too soon to bring it up, way too early according to the carefully planned schedule Connor had made for introducing Fred to the many aspects of being in a long-term relationship with a wolf.

So it’s not really a surprise when Fred balks at Zach’s vague explanation of the process. And Connor can see how it might seem barbaric from the outside, how biting each other’s necks until they bleed and then lick away the blood until the wound closes up in perfect circular scars signifying their union might not seem appealing for someone who was raised with a different perception of romance and how relationships progressed.

Hell, Connor who has been a wolf for his entire life and hadn’t heard about this before attending his first Summer Solstice had thought it was a fucking weird thing to do. Until of course, he met Freddie and wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into his neck and watch their imprint on his skin forever.

Which is why he hadn’t planned on bringing it up like this, in front of a pack that all found it very normal and probably wouldn’t understand Connor’s hesitancy about explaining it to Fred. But Connor doesn’t push, not when he knows Fred wouldn’t be susceptible to it right now.

It’s a gradual process, and it takes until the off-season before Freddie agrees to move forward with the mating bites. 

At this point, Connor doesn’t really care all that much about sinking his teeth into Freddie when he already has him in all the ways that he needs to and with his trip to Herning set for July, Connor actually needs a few minutes when Freddie blurt out right after sex that, “Alright, you can bite me before I leave Canada.”

Connor stops on his way back from the bathroom, a wet cloth to clean them with hanging from one hand as the other rest on the door frame to the master bedroom, “I’m – are you asking me to leave?” Connor asks confused, his voice still hoarse from the blowjob just a few minutes ago.

But Freddie doesn’t look mad or anything near being provoked enough to tell him to bite him. In fact, he looks very happy in the soft light of the shitty light bulbs Connor had picked up from Ikea when he had gone to get another dresser for one of Freddie’s spare rooms, so they could fit all of their clothes in the same room.

Freddie sits up on his elbows, giving Connor a strange look. “What.” He says dryly, all the softness leaking out of him and being replaced with annoyance Connor isn’t used to seeing off the ice. “You’ve spent so much time talking about it and now you’re playing dumb? Fuck off, Connor.” He scoffs angrily as he rolls out of bed and stalks into the bathroom by himself, narrowly missing Connor who’s still standing paralysed in the doorway.

“What?” Connor repeats to himself after a beat, following Fred on shaky legs until he’s back in front of the bathroom, “Babe, I’m. I just don’t know what you’re talking about?” He yells through the door, trying to locate something to wear in case Freddie comes back and asks him to leave and go back to his almost empty apartment that hasn’t been used by people other than his parents last December. “… I’m. Of course, I want to bite you, if – I mean, if that’s what you’re into, then I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Connor doesn’t know if it’s too early to say the L word, but if Freddie were to drop it, Connor wouldn’t be more than a second behind him. So if Freddie wants to walk into the locker room next season with hickeys all over his neck and upper-body, Connor is sure they could work something out.

Freddie comes out with a flush high on his cheeks and doesn’t look at Connor as he sits down on the bed. He exhales deeply before turning to Connor with a determined look on his face, “Look, if you changed your mind, just tell me, yeah? I’m not – if you don’t want to be with me anymore, that’s fine. But please just say it instead of playing dumb, alright?” Freddie says softly, but there is firmness behind it, like he’s already decided that if he’s going to be hurt, it’s going to be on his terms.

Connor lets out a soft sound of disagreement, but Fred still doesn’t look up from his hand tightly closed around his own wrist, stopping it from shaking.

He swings a leg over Fred’s, moving up until he’s straddling his thighs and his hands on Fred’s shoulders, squeezing them until he looks up with a sad look, not quite a pout but close, “Freds, babe. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I –“ Fred scrunches up his nose again like he’s about to protest, and Connor lets out another whine, “Jeg elsker dig, Frederik.” His pronunciation is shit and on any other day, Freddie would have laughed at him and told him to shut up and stick to English because his Danish is shit.

But today Fred stays quiet, watching him with narrowed eyes as Connor sighs softly before repeating, “I love you Freds, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say, but I’m in, okay? Whatever you want, babe.”

There’s beat where it’s just the two of them staring at each other, Freddie’s steely, searching gaze on Connor’s confused, but full of love. And then Freddie’s exhaling, collapsing onto Connor’s shoulder as he lets go of the tension in his body. Connor moves quickly, pushing back until they’re both leaning back against the wall, Connor with his arms around Fred, holding him close to his chest as they breathe against each other.

“I love you too, Connor. I – I hope that was clear,” Fred says later, when they’re back to lying in bed, closer than before and touching in every way they can. “I just, you’ve been talking about how much this mating bite thing means to wolves, and then when I say I want it, you pretend not to know what I’m talking about, and I’m just. It was frustrating, you know?”

“Oh,” Connor says, a wide grin spreading over his lips. “That was what you were saying?” He bullies him to roll over until Fred is lying on his back and he can drape himself across his chest. “You wanted me to bite you?”

Fred gives him a blank look and tries to shove him off, but Connor sits tight, arms wrapped around him and his teeth already making marks where the scars would be.

“That’s literally what I said, Brown. And then you started to play dumb.”

“_Oh_.” Because that is sort of true. “I thought you meant, ‘bite me’ like you wanted me to fuck off?” Connor adds embarrassed, raising his head just in time to see Freddie roll his eyes.

“Yeah, please do that before I leave for Denmark. That sounds awesome.”

Connor frowns, leaning down to kiss him. “You can’t be mean to me, we’re supposed to be together forever, Fred.”

Freddie scoffs, but runs a hand through his hair until it’s just lingering at the bottom of his skull, “Because you’re always so kind to me.”

Connor shrugs, but it’s kind of ruined by the permanent smile on his face. “Did you really mean it? Do you want me to bite you?”

“Yeah, Connor. I really meant it.”

They decide to do it a couple of days before Freddie is set to leave, enough time for the wound to heal nicely and for Connor to get used to the idea of Fred not being around all the time.

“You know, I could just fly out with you.” He wonders out loud on their way to the patio where Freddie had put out towels in case the bleeding got a bit out of hand, “I mean, we both know my Danish is shit, you said yourself the signing is shit in Jutland, so I might actually get lost if I go on my own.”

Fred rolls his eyes and pulls off his shirt in favour of ignoring him. “Do you want to change and run around for a bit, so you’re not all hyped up when we come to the biting part?” He asks instead, sitting down on the towel-covered chair.

Connor hums briefly before shifting, going by Fred to bump his head against his knee before his running through the grass, chasing the lone rabbit that hasn’t left the yard yet. He comes back panting, but a bit more settled as he jumps onto the chair and sits between Fred’s thighs.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Fred asks dryly. He leans back in his chair and spreads his legs wider until Connor can lean forward and easily reach his neck. “Just, you’re just going for it? That’s, yeah okay.” There’s a bit of a stutter in his words, and Connor can’t help but pause, licking at the skin with a rough tongue until he starts to relax. “Go ahead, Connor.” And this time his voice is much calmer, settled in the way he usually is when he’s around Connor.

So he leans in and closes his mouth around the bottom of his throat, piercing Fred’s skin only superficially until he’s pulling back, licking apologetic at the skin as Freddie hisses. He stays a wolf long enough for the blood to stop running, cleaning it with firm strokes of his tongue before he’s shifting back. He pulls Freddie to his chest, one hand at the bottom of his skull and the other grasping his biceps.

“I love you, Freds. Have I told you that?” Connor whispers softly in between kisses placed wherever he can reach.

“Yeah, I think you might have mentioned.” Fred jokes, but he sounds happy as they lean back in the chair, Freddie easily taking his weight and adjusting him until their position is better.

“So, do you want to run around a bit first, or are you good to go?” Connor asks with a soft grin, leaning his head back so he can watch Fred. But instead of replying, Fred looks confused, frowning at him as Connor turns around in his lap, “Fred? How do you want to bite me?”

“I – I thought it was a wolf thing?” Freddie says, looking sceptical. “You never said something about me biting you back.”

Connor laughs, loud and surprised. “I mean, sure in pairings with humans, it’s usually only the wolf that bites their mate, but like. You’re a shifter too, Fred.”

“But –“

“Freddie, come on bud –“

“Please don’t call me that. I know it works for Mitch and Auston, but I’m not your teammate right now, Connor.” Fred says with a shudder, squeezing his eyes together like he’s trying to force an image away. But then he’s sighing and pushing Connor off his lap. “It’s not gonna look the same, but if you don’t care then –“

And Connor doesn’t even care, standing up and letting Fred run a quick lap around the yard while he sits down. All he wants is Fred’s mark on him, something to show that they do belong together, that even if something was to tear them apart, Connor would still have this to remind him.

Fred comes back on all fours, light enough that Connor doesn’t notice him until he’s jumping onto the chair and climbing into Connor’s lap, letting out a wheeze when Connor doesn’t react right away.

“Hi babe, had a nice run?”

Fred bops his head in a nod before jumping up and placing his paws on Connor’s shoulders, ready to lean in. But whereas Connor had problems with how deep he could let his teeth go, Fred can’t seem to get his mouth around the wideness of Connor’s neck, struggling with getting a proper bite with his smaller mouth.

He jumps back and lets out another wheeze, looking at Connor accusingly as if saying, ‘I fucking told you so, now what?’.

Connor laughs, “You’re so tiny, Fred. You’re in the same pack as Mitchy, and you’re still the smallest.” He reaches out to scratch behind his ear, but Freddie growls as he lunges for Connor’s hand.

Connor looks from Fred to where he is cradling his wrist carefully between his teeth, not quite biting down but there’s definitely a sting coming from where his skin is caught inside Fred’s mouth. “You know, this would also work.” Connor says softly, using his free hand to scratch underneath Fred’s chin, feeling his jaw flex instinctually causing his teeth to sink deeper into his wrist.

Fred looks sceptical, waiting for a minute before he bites down, just hard enough that Connor can feel a burning in his wrist where his pointy teeth slice into his wrist. And then Freddie is back to being human, teeth barely out of his skin before he’s turning.

“Shit, Connor. Are you already? I –“ Fred fusses, reaching back to grab one of the clean towels from the other chair, wrapping it around his wrist to soak up the blood that’s still pouring from the wounds. “What if I’ve fucked up your hand? What are you going to do then, idiot?” Fred rumbles angrily, pouring some of the water onto the clean part of the towel to wipe away some of the blood.

And Connor can’t help but laugh as he leans back against Fred’s chest, “It’s fine babe, look,” he says as he flexes his wrist before curling his fingers together to a fist, mimicking how he would hold a hockey stick. “Besides, you earn like, 5 mil a year? You could easily support both of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so close to googling what does a fox say before the war flash backs started, so Freddie just doesn’t communicate verbally as a fox. 
> 
> Next up, Freddie!


	3. Frederik

Freddie doesn’t realise he’s a fox before one of the guys on the Ducks invites him along on a moon run.

“I’m sorry?” He says, fresh off the boat from Denmark and too used to the melodic Swedish to sound entirely unaccented.

“You’re a shifter, yeah? Probably not a wolf but you’re something, eh?” The guy says with a quick smile as he takes Fred’s arm and leads him through the arena until they reach the locker room. “Think about it, okay? We’re not that many down here, so you would be very welcome.”

There are only three of them in the pack, including Freddie.

Wolves are a Canadian thing, they say, so whatever pack they find down here in the dry heat of Anaheim is exclusively based around the team and what family they bring with them.

“What about the other Californian teams? Can’t you just, I don’t know, pool your wolves and have one big pack?” Fred asks and tries not to watch them strip, but there’s something feral about the way they do it. The urgency with which they shed their clothes, hand shaking and breaths getting sharper as the moon starts to rise.

But there’s still time to scoff, watching Fred with great disdain. “That wouldn’t be pack. You can’t just put wolves together and expect them to get along. There’s nothing to tie us to them, and – you need a connection to make a pack work.”

Fred just nods, ignoring the sense of dread building in the pit of his stomach as he strips down to join them deeper into the woods.

There’s nothing special about it though.

There’s no feeling of being free as the two of them describe it as, no familiar bond between them as they coax him through a shift into a gleaming red fox, legs shaky and body small enough to fit in his glove back at the rink. But he gets the point, even if he stays by the car watching the others run after that – it’s a unity thing, something to keep them going before the summer comes, before they’re back home again.

The two wolves are gone when the new season starts, and Freddie doesn’t mind all that much. He doesn’t need the trees of the company if the wants to shift, his two-bedroom apartment is more than enough for a small kit like him.

And then the Ducks trade him, to fucking Toronto of all places.

Fred’s heard the rumours, how wolves are concentrated when you reach Ontario, and while no NHL team has an abundance of them, Toronto seems to have become the place to be over the last year.

He might not be able to smell other shifters like the wolves can, but he did spend a year with two of them, watching how they acted around the full moon, when their legs go itchy and the need to stick close to each other got bigger.

They’re not hard to find, is what Fred is saying.

Not when he finds all four of them huddled together in the back of the plane, watching the receding sun with narrowed eyes and increasingly snappy replies as the moon starts to rise. Mitch sprawled across all three of them, anxious with his head resting on Naz’s thigh as he stares at a point somewhere close to Auston’s head. Zach who looks worried, scribbling notes into a worn-out moleskin and picking at his lip until it’s stained red and smelling awfully metallic.

And Connor who looks at Fred curiously whenever their eyes meet, head cocked and smiling softy until Fred forces his eyes back to the screen in front of him.

No one shifts on the plane, but they’re quick to depart into the same big car parked close to the exit. None of them looks quite alright at practice the next day, a bit too slow on their feet, Mitchy hanging off Auston more than usual, Zach and Connor huddling closer on the bench as Nazem worries about all three of them, getting snappy as Marty jokingly checks Mitch into the boards.

“Chill, Naz. I’m just giving him some love, eh?” Marty yells back and squeezes Mitch tighter until all the energy seems to leave him, Mitch’s head flopping back onto his shoulder and leaving his neck dangerously angled and exposed.

Fred holds his breath, keeping quiet as a low rumble leaves Kadri’s chest.

Matt grew up in Windsor, Ontario if his Canadian geography isn’t failing him. So he really should know what state Mitch is in, how the moon makes them go crazy and do even crazier things, how submission comes easy this close to a waning, especially in a pack with no established alpha – despite Naz’s best efforts to keep them all afloat and happy.

It’s easy then, for Fred to skate the small distance from the blue line to the bench and throw his arms around Marty in a weak attempt of a check. But it allows him to nudge Mitch towards Naz as Matt’s focus turns to him instead, laughing loudly as he squares up and throws a couple of soft punches to his pads.

“You wanna go, Fred? The pads are a bit of an unfair advantage, but I’ll take it!”

“You sure as fuck won’t!” Someone yells from the face-off dot, Babs and one of the goalie coaches looking very constipated as they skate towards them, “You’ll be down in the minors so quick, I swear to god, Martin.”

Fred stops listening halfway through and skates back to his goal, not so gently led by Steve who’s muttering curses underneath his breath about stupid goalies who shouldn’t leave their nets. But Naz has stopped snarling now that Mitch is back between Zach and Connor, and wasn’t that more important than just another dumb drill?

Curtis McElhinney is placed on waivers in January, and suddenly Freddie has a new backup and then pack a new member.

He doesn’t know if Mac is the catalyst or if the pack has been talking about him before Mac joined them, but suddenly Fred finds himself with an invitation to their pack run the following Wednesday.

“It’s at Naz’s place. I’m sure he’ll give you the address if you need it,” Mitch adds with a smile before he had to hurry, running back to Auston who’s waiting for him by the door. He’s frowning just the slightly, scrolling through his phone lazily until Mitch bumps their hips together and pulling them out of the door.

It’s a bit abrupt and out of nowhere, with no formal lead-up or explanation of what he should expect, none of the other wolves interested in following up on Mitchy’s invitation. But then, Fred doesn’t know a lot about werewolf norms, even less about organised pack structures that involves more than two wolves – so maybe Mitch is right on point the traditions.

Freddie goes, because how could he not?

He still doesn’t shift with the pack, but it feels different with than what it did with the Ducks – calmer, more comfortable as Connor settles in his lap and refuses to leave until Mitch is whining pathetically, dragging his stomach along the grass until his white fur is stained green by newly cut grass. Mac who too seems reluctant to leave Freddie’s side without checking in every once in a while, licking at his wrist before running back to Naz.

He doesn’t know what changes, or when it changes at that.

He still doesn’t participate in wolf things other than being around when someone calls for him, calm fingers in soft fur whenever one of them sneaks into his lap after a tough loss, or a warm hand holding them in place when they seem close to vibrating out of their skin. But it feels, right somehow – like he actually belongs with them, rather than just imposing on their space.

He knows the Leafs doesn’t have an alpha.

The Ducks didn’t either back in Anaheim, but he thinks this is different. Both with their size and the closer proximity of other packs because of Ontario’s concentration of wolves. They’re also a fairly young team, the bulk of the pack consisting of guys who’s mainly been a part of family packs and whatever intermediate thing they had in juniors.

He just doesn’t expect it to fall to him in absence of a real alpha.

He knows a lot of it stems from Curtis who’s ever since he got here was made very clear what his position was supposed to be. Curtis who’s always looked to Fred when it comes to the team, easily deferring to him, even in front of the pack where age and experience seems to be a thing of importance.

Zach who seems happy to have someone to turn to when even his years of experience – so much broader and more varied than Freddie will ever have – fails him and he needs someone to reassure him that the world isn’t ending just yet. Mitchy who latches on to Freddie despite already having half a roster of other wolves to play with and stays put until Fred just gives up and lets the pup climb all over him.

Naz who seems relieved to have some of the pressure taken off him, finally letting go of the breath he’s been holding and instead curls up by Fred’s feet, both eyes closed and sleeping softly.

“You know, wolves aren’t even native to Denmark.” He says softly, Connor curled up on his chest as the rest of the pack surrounds them. The weather still isn’t optimal for being outside during the night, but Fred’s found that a heavy coat and at least one wolf does the trick of keeping him warm despite his lack of movement. “I don’t know how I ended up with five of them in my backyard.”

**Author's Note:**

> next up is Connor's story and then Freddie's following that, both which should be up before next weekend!


End file.
